Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

Though Jane had been greatly disappointed by Lord Crabb, the unexpected return of Mary from town had done wonders to lift her spirits.

Mary and Northcott had invited the Mifford family to dine with them at Northcott Manor, where Mary had regaled them all with tales of town.

"Everyone was so friendly this time," Mary had mused, "Not at all like last season, when the whole ton failed to take note of my existence."

"Being a duchess does make one more noticeable," Jane had commented in reply, and her sister"s eyes had lit up with mischief.

"Why, yes it does, and we shall use it to our advantage when we launch you in the spring, Jane."

Her sister had paused, waiting expectantly for Jane"s usual flat refusal to entertain any notion of having a season, but none was forthcoming. She had not even had the energy to argue that one launched missiles, and not females.

In the way that only a sister could, Mary instantly took on a meaning to Jane"s silence, and her eyes had narrowed thoughtfully.

Thus, once the dinner was over and the ladies had sipped tea and Papa and Northcott had partaken in a cheroot and brandy, Mary declared that she wished for Jane to stay and accompany her to visit Sarah Hughes.

"Perhaps I shall come too," Mrs Mifford declared, reluctant to miss out on any of the fun.

"Perhaps you should not, dear," Mr Mifford interrupted with a smile, "For there are certain subjects which young ladies prefer not to discuss in front of their mother."

"What subjects? What do you wish to discuss with Mary that you cannot tell me, Jane?" Mrs Mifford appeared greatly offended at the idea that she was being excluded from any gossip.

"I am certain you shall find out in due course, dear," Mr Mifford interrupted his wife and placed a calming hand on her shoulder, "Come; Northcott brought us a bottle of Madeira wine from Berry"s, it might help you digest that wonderful feast."

"Well, I am feeling very full," Mrs Mifford placed a hand to her brow, her attention now taken by the cure for her suddenly troubled digestion, "Don"t be too late home, Jane. I shall want to hear all about your trip to Miss Hughes."

With that, Mr and Mrs Mifford, alongside Emily and Eudora, departed for Primrose Cottage, leaving Jane alone with Mary and the duke.

Northcott gave a very audible sigh of relief as the door closed behind Mrs Mifford, earning himself a wry look from Mary.

"She"s not that bad," Mary scolded.

"I have faced less vigorous interrogations in the House of Lords," Northcott replied, with a light smile, "Though, as she is your mother, I love her nonetheless. And as my mother is worse, I do hope you will be similarly patient."

"Your mother is wonderful, dear," Mary replied, sweetly.

After Northcott had excused himself to attend to estate business, Mary had turned to Jane and hissed, "She really is worse than Mama, and I did not think that possible. For our entire stay in London, she kept sending footmen over with baby gowns that she had knitted herself. And when she was not doing that, she was calling over with different teas purported to aid conception. When Henry suggested we depart for Plumpton before the roads got too bad to travel, I jumped at the chance to get away."

"Oh, dear," Jane patted her sister"s arm comfortingly, "I am certain once you provide her with a grandchild that she shall leave you in peace."

"I fear she will be worse," Mary bit her lip, her blue eyes dancing, "Which is why I wanted to escape to Plumpton before I revealed my news; I am increasing."

"You are?"

"Early days and I have not yet told Henry, but I am fairly certain."

"Oh, Mary, how wonderful! And I shall have a little niece or nephew."

Jane embraced her sister in a warm hug and as they broke apart, Mary gave a nervous laugh.

"I don"t want to discuss it anymore, in case I am mistaken," she decided, "It really is very early to assume I am with child and not simply out of sorts because of all my late nights in London. Come, let us call on Sarah."

Mary summoned a footman to order that a carriage and four be prepared for them.

"I would ask for the Phaeton," Mary whispered apologetically, "But in my condition, I shouldn"t like to risk it."

"No matter," Jane replied quickly, certain that she would not wish to travel in a Phaeton with her sister under any circumstances. Mary was an excitable whip and she remained the only member of the Mifford family capable of urging poor Daisy into anything faster than a slow trot; Jane would not like to see how fast she went with a younger horse.

When the carriage was prepared, the footman arrived to let the two ladies know. It was still so strange for Jane to see her sister addressed as "Your Grace" and have liveried servants rushing to do her every bidding. Luckily, her new status had not changed Mary one bit, and as she arranged herself inside the lush compartment, she gave Jane a wide smile.

"Now we are alone, you may tell me everything that you could not say in front of Mama," she declared, and Jane duly obliged.

She began with the tale of Lord Crabb"s murder—which had been glossed over at the dinner table—and shared how she suspected that, despite being the most likely suspect, the true perpetrator was not the new viscount.

"As someone who was once mistakenly labelled as a murderer, I can only sympathise with the man," Mary agreed, cheerfully.

"Yes, well, he was very grateful for my support," Jane replied, slowly, "And agreed to allow me to assist him with his investigation. We had drawn up a similar list of suspects, though we have not managed to progress much further."

There was a moment of silence, during which Mary watched her coyly.

"I know you are expecting me to ask about your list of suspects," Mary finally said, her plump lips struggling valiantly against breaking into a smile, "But I am far more interested in the use of pronouns in your last sentence. Is there something going on between you and Lord Crabb? Oh, how wonderful it would be if you were to be mistress of Plumpton Hall and I mistress of Northcott Manor."

As Mary had just returned, Jane did not wish to upset her by pointing out that their mother had said the very same thing. Instead, she offered a halting—and much redacted—account of her time spent with Lord Crabb, finishing with the moment she had sighted the viscount in an embrace with Prunella Hughes.

"Oh, dear," Mary placed a gloved hand on Jane"s, "Were you very disappointed?"

"I had some hope," Jane answered, glad at last to be able to share her heartbreak, "Though, in truth, I was far too pessimistic to allow myself to hope too much. One of the benefits of a pessimistic outlook is, I suppose, that it is often proved right."

"Though sometimes you can be pleasantly surprised," Mary argued, "Is there any chance that it was all a misunderstanding and that you did not see what you thought you saw?"

Hope fluttered in Jane"s breast, though she quickly quashed it. She had re-imagined the scene a dozen times, in the compulsive way that one might pick at a scab, even when knowing it would only hurt. In her memory, Lord Crabb had appeared to be struggling against Prunella"s advances, though she did not quite trust her own mind to have inserted its own addendum to the truth.

"I do not believe so," Jane said flatly, "And while it hurts now, I do believe that my brief dalliance with Lord Crabb has settled my mind upon wanting to marry."

"It has?"

"Well, that and the fact that I realised I could not last a lifetime under Mama"s roof without one of us ending up dead," Jane finished with a laugh.

"Well," Mary said brightly, "We shall plan for you to have the most spectacular season next spring. I shall introduce you to only the most eligible bachelors in all of London; though I shall weed out the ones who live too far for comfort. I"m not marrying you off to any Scottish lords."

Jane gave her sister a grateful smile, though she was glad when they turned onto the driveway of the Hughes" farm. As much as she protested that she was not upset about Lord Crabb, she could not yet feign enthusiasm about a search for his replacement.

Sarah rushed from the doorway, as the carriage drew up outside the solid farmhouse. Mr Hughes, Sarah"s father, was a younger brother to Sir Charles, and though the house was not so grand as Hillside House, it was still large and elegant by Plumpton"s standards.

"Mary," Sarah greeted her friend with a smile, "How wonderful to see you return; I feared we would lose you to the glamour of London forever."

"I could never abandon Plumpton, I would miss it too much," Mary declared, before giving a wicked smile, "I was even starting to miss Mrs Canards, would you believe?"

"I struggle to see how that might be," Jane snorted, as Sarah led the way inside.

Being the only daughter in a family of brothers, and with her mother having passed away a few years ago, Sarah was the de facto mistress of her home. She brought Mary and Jane into the small parlour at the back of the house, which was for her sole use. As ever, Jane felt immediately comfortable in the cosy room.

"Agatha will bring the tea shortly," Sarah said, as she urged the sisters to sit, "Do tell us Mary, how was London?"

Jane listened idly as Mary launched into a description of her time in London—far more colourful than the one she had shared at dinner. Sarah had kept clippings of every mention of Mary in the papers and the pair descended into fits of giggles as they compared the reported gossip to the truth.

"The glamorous Duchess of Northcott attended an opera at the Theatre Royal."

"I was far from glamorous; I had just eaten a plate of oysters which did not agree with me."

"The Duke and Duchess of Northcott met with the esteemed Ambassador to the Prussian Court this evening."

"Esteemed? Steaming drunk, more like, and the worst halitosis I have ever encountered in my life."

"The Duchess of Northcott was spotted on Bond Street with several heavily laden footmen following in tow."

"Oh," Mary blushed, "That one might be true; the shopping is heavenly in London."

On they continued, until Mary grew tired of talking of London, and begged Sarah to update her on all the goings-on in Plumpton.

"There is little to report," Sarah answered with a laugh, "The Ladies" Society organised an assembly, which Jane has probably already told you about. It was perfectly pleasant, if a little dull. And, of course, you must have heard of Lord Crabb"s unfortunate demise."

Jane stilled, not at the mention of Lord Crabb"s murder, but at Sarah"s assertion that the assembly had been "dull". Though Sarah was not the type to gossip, if she had discovered Prunella and Lord Crabb in a passionate embrace—and had been forced to inform Sir Charles—then she would certainly have shared the news that the pair were now engaged with her friends.

"Yes, the murder," Mary"s eyes lit up, "Have you heard anything further? Jane said that the new viscount was rumoured to have perpetrated the crime, but she did not believe it so, and offered to help him investigate the matter."

"Good for you, Jane," Sarah congratulated her, "I am inclined to agree; he does seem too kind-hearted to commit murder. He purchased tickets for the assembly for all his staff; a very generous act and it rubbed Mrs Canards up to boot. Is there anyone you suspect might have done it, Jane? I know my brothers assumed it was something to do with the delay to the expansion of the mill. Emotions amongst the villagers were quite fraught, by all accounts."

"Yes," Jane answered carefully, "The viscount suspects something similar. He thinks that, perhaps, one of the farmers might have persuaded a member of staff to slip something into Lord Crabb"s tonic—"

Jane was cut off by a sudden banging noise from outside the door. Sarah sprang to her seat with concern, and rushed to look outside to see what had happened.

"Prunella," Jane heard her exclaim, "I didn"t know you were here."

"I just called over to drop something into Uncle Colin," they heard Prunella answer, "I did not want to interrupt when you had company."

"It"s only Jane and Mary—I mean, the duchess-come in and say hello."

"I had really best be going," Prunella protested, her words quickly followed by the sound of footsteps scurrying away down the hallway.

"I apologise," Sarah said, as she returned to her guests, "As Jane already knows, Prunella has been most upset by Lord Crabb"s murder."

Mary gave a strangled noise, which, at Jane"s warning frown, she hastily turned into a cough. "I"m sure it was difficult for her," she said, as she cleared her throat, "Though she is young, and she will soon set her sights on a new viscount. Now, Sarah, thank you so much for the tea and chatter; I would love to stay but Northcott will send out a search party if I do not return soon."

"Call anytime you wish," Sarah replied, her tone kind for she had not understood the hidden meaning to Mary"s comment. "It is so lovely to have you returned to Plumpton, Mary, the place has not been the same without you."

Mary looked momentarily guilty and to compensate, she spent the next few minutes offering her goodbyes and thanking Sarah profusely for her hospitality.

Once the two girls were safely ensconced in the carriage, Jane offered Mary a very shrewd stare.

"Oh, don"t say anything," Mary huffed, despite the fact that Jane had said nothing at all, "It slipped out—and I cannot help but dislike this Prunella for attempting to steal Lord Crabb away from you."

"Lord Crabb was not mine to steal," Jane calmly pointed out, "Nor was Prunella aware that there was anything between us—and there was not, I fear it was all a figment of my imagination."

"Poppy-cock," Mary frowned, "What man could fail to fall in love with you? You are the prettiest girl in the parish."

"No, that is you," Jane smiled, happy to let the argument trail off, for she knew that Mary was motivated by sisterly loyalty rather than anything else.

They rode in companionable silence toward the village, but as they reached Lower Plumpton, Jane rapped on the roof of the carriage to indicate to the driver that she wished to stop.

"I shall walk from here," she said to her sister, "I have not been out all day and I need to clear my head."

"I would try dissuade you, but it would be a useless endeavour," Mary sighed, "Safe home, give my love to the others."

A footman opened the carriage door to assist Jane down, an unnecessary act of chivalry, for clambering out of the carriage was far easier than disembarking from the family"s ancient gig. Jane waved her sister off and once the carriage was out of sight, she set off at a brisk pace.

Rather than taking the route through the village—which might necessitate conversing with people—Jane took the wooded path down to the river. The ground beneath her feet was rather mucky, though thankfully she had worn her sturdiest pair of boots. Mary"s return to Plumpton, and her exciting news, meant that Jane had a spring in her step as she walked.

Yes, it was dreadful that things had not turned out as well with Lord Crabb as she might have liked.

Yes, if she knew she would get away with it, Jane would not be averse to throwing rotten fruit at his head.

But nobody had died, she reasoned with herself. Well, nobody else that she knew of, and Jane was not so upset that she was about to commit Plumpton"s second act of viscount-icide in less than a month.

The amity Jane felt toward Lord Crabb lasted for most of her walk, that is until she rounded the bend of the river and caught sight of him waiting for her in the same spot as before.

She felt a brief flash of irritation at him for ambushing her, followed by a fleeting urge to throw herself in the hedgerow and hide, until finally her mind settled on the rational thought that the only thing she could do was to continue on her path.

"My lord," she called in greeting as she reached him, "Have you stopped to admire the view again?"

She had a brief moment of satisfaction as she watched Lord Crabb flinch with embarrassment, but her gratification was short lived as the viscount offered her a self-deprecating smile.

"That excuse was hardly believable the first time," he replied sheepishly, "I shan"t insult your intelligence by attempting it twice."

Drat him, Jane thought irritably, for there was nothing more endearing than a handsome man who was able to laugh at himself. And Lord Crabb, for all his faults, looked particularly handsome today. He was dressed simply, in a forest green merino wool coat, worn over buff breeches and Hessian boots. The cravat at his neck had been loosened and despite herself, Jane felt a pang of longing, as she noted the faint hint of a shadow upon his strong jaw.

The faint desire which stirred in her belly left her irritated and before she could stop herself, her lips were forming a cutting retort.

"And I hope that you shall not insult my intelligence by telling me that it was Prunella who threw herself at you," she replied, making to push past him, "It would be just like a man to blame the woman for his misdeeds."

Jane did not usually reveal her feelings, nor did she ever engage in verbal spats with others—excepting her sisters, which did not count. Her head felt rather light, her heart pounded in her chest, and she felt the sudden urge to flee but Lord Crabb seemed to anticipate this, and he took a step to block her path.

"Peace," he said, holding his hands up to show he meant no harm, "I do not wish to insult you but I"m afraid that is the truth. Miss Hughes cornered me and threw her arms around me, hoping for a kiss, but I was unwilling. I don"t know if you noticed, but the embrace you witnessed was far from passionate."

Jane hesitated; she had thought that their union appeared rather fraught for something that was supposed to be loving. Though her mother had warned her—and all her daughters—that male desire was a dangerous animal. Who was to say that wasn"t exactly what happened between a man and a woman?

"Thank you for sharing your side of the story with me," Jane replied primly. Her head was fighting valiantly against her heart, which wanted so desperately to believe him. His excuse might be true, she told herself, or it might just be an excuse.

Though...

Jane frowned as she recalled bumping into Sarah Hughes, right after she had spotted the viscount and Prunella together. Sarah had said that "he", whoever "he" was, had sent her outside after her cousin; was it possible that the viscount had fallen foul of a plot to have him compromised into offering for Prunella?

Jane opened her mouth to share this thought with the viscount, then promptly closed it again. She was merely looking for excuses for him now, she chastised herself. She wanted him so much, that she had been momentarily willing to overlook his betrayal.

"I just wanted you to hear my side," Lord Crabb finished, looking defeated, "I shall not pressure you into believing it."

"Thank you, my lord," Jane inclined her head graciously and waited for him to move out of her way.

"The other thing I wished to discuss with you," Lord Crabb continued, his manner brusque, "Is the murder. The last time that we spoke, we had settled on Mr Allen potentially being the perpetrator, but I confronted him and I am now of the belief that it was not he."

Jane listened, as the viscount quickly recounted his encounter with the butler. With all that Mr Allen had done to preserve the dignity of the line, it did not seem possible that he would have suddenly decided to kill Lord Crabb.

"We are back to the beginning," Jane said with a sigh, as the viscount finished his tale.

"Not quite," he answered, his green eyes thoughtful, "I have it on good authority that Mr Bennett was on my property on the night of the murder and that his relationship with Miss Bridges is much stronger than we had first assumed."

"Oh?" Jane raised an eyebrow; she had not been expecting the poor maid to be revealed as the true villain in the piece.

"Yes," Lord Crabb sighed, running a hand over his jaw in agitation, "I had hoped that it was not her. If it was, I am of a mind to think that Mr Bennett somehow pressured her into it, but I"m afraid it all fits. Flora has access to the still room, she is the one who prepared Lord Crabb"s tonic—as much as I hate to admit it, it is looking more and more likely that it is she."

"What shall you do?" Jane questioned, for the viscount did not look at all pleased to have finally discovered the true culprit.

"Bide my time," he shrugged, "Try to catch them together and force a confession from one, or both of them."

A silence fell between them, the only noise being the crunch of twigs as Jane shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Lord Crabb noted it and offered her a wry smile.

"I will let you go, Miss Mifford," he said, taking a step back so that she might pass.

"Will you inform me if there is any more progress?" Jane asked, before she could stop herself. The murder was the last tenuous thread linking them together and she was reluctant to severe it.

"You have my word," Lord Crabb said solemnly, "For what it"s worth."

Again, anger spurned Jane"s tongue into a bitter retort, but this time she restrained herself.

"Thank you, my lord," she said, with a tight smile, before continuing on her path home.

And this time, she did not look back to see if he was still watching her, for she could not bear the pain.

Jane did not expect to hear from Lord Crabb so soon, so the next morning, when a knock came upon the door to Primrose Cottage, Jane assumed that it must be a parishioner. A foolishly optimistic parishioner, she thought, for her father was still abed.

Nora went to answer the knock and was gone a few minutes, before she returned to the kitchen ashen faced and clutching a letter in her hand.

"That was James," Nora stuttered as she passed Jane the letter.

"Has something happened at home?" Jane guessed, for Nora looked genuinely distraught.

The maid shook her head, her eyes wild, and Jane placed a hand on her elbow to guide her toward a seat. Once seated, Nora began to rock back and forth, keening like a widow of old.

"What is it, Nora?" Jane pressed, worried now. Nora was usually so hardy—an essential characteristic when one had Mrs Mifford as a mistress—so to see her this upset meant something terrible had happened.

"It"s all my fault," she whispered, as she rocked back and forth.

"What"s all your fault?" Jane questioned, eager to understand, "What has happened?"

"He called yesterday," Nora babbled, not specifying who this "he" was, "I told him that Mr Bennett had been sighted on the estate—which is true—and I hinted that Flora had encouraged him there—which I might have made up. Oh, why did I let my jealousy get the better of me? I knew what type of man he was, but I never expected this—"

"For heaven"s sake, Nora," Jane interrupted, "What on earth are you talking about?"

"It"s Flora Bridges," Nora sniffed, "She was found unconscious on the London Road; hit on the back of the head with a rock by the looks of things."

"Goodness," Jane lifted a hand to her mouth, her mind racing, "Who on earth would have done that?"

"Weren"t you listening?" Nora wailed, "It"s all my fault; I told Lord Crabb yesterday that Mr Bennett had taken to calling up to Plumpton Hall at night and I pretended that Flora was encouraging him—when the opposite is true, she thought him a nuisance. Lord Crabb must have been so incensed by the news that he tried to beat her to death; he has a penchant for murder, as we all know."

Poor Nora, Jane thought; the jealous could be troublesome to others but were always a torment to themselves. She had acted out of spite, hoping to hurt Flora, but had not expected this result—not that this result was any of her doing.

"Lord Crabb did not murder anyone," Jane stressed, offering Nora a consolatory pat on the hand, "Nor did he attack poor Miss Bridges. You did not act in a manner befitting of a girl of your good nature, Nora, but you did not cause Flora any physical harm."

"I wish I could take it back," Nora wailed, burying her face in her apron.

"Well, keep that in mind the next time you are tempted to be spiteful," Jane responded, evenly.

She spotted the bottle of Madeira that Northcott had gifted her father, corked and standing on the counter-top. It was nearly finished, but Jane managed to pour a large enough measure for Nora, which she handed to the sobbing maid.

"Drink this," she said sternly, "It"s medicinal."

Nora sipped upon the wine and some of the colour returned to her cheeks. Once her tears had finished and she seemed more at ease, Jane gave her a bracing smile.

"Do not fret, Nora," she said, "I am sure that Miss Bridges will make a recovery. Now, I shall go up to Plumpton Hall and see what Lord Crabb has to say about the matter. Will you be alright to make breakfast?"

Nora nodded her head slowly in response to the question, her usual exuberance absent.

"Good girl," Jane cheered her, "If anyone asks where I am, tell them that I have gone for a walk."

With that, Jane left the kitchen in search of her shawl and bonnet, eager to be on her way. Had the viscount been mistaken in thinking that Flora had been involved in Lord Crabb"s murder? Or was she involved, and the true perpetrator wished to silence her?

So many questions had formed in Jane"s mind, but she knew the only answers she would find would be at Plumpton Hall.